looked up, panting. Honey stood at the base of the staircase, her hair in massive curlers and a silk robe tied loosely at her waist. Leroy stood behind her, watching with mute interest as Narcissa writhed on the floor. A cloud of bees circled over their heads, their buzzing echoing off the confines of the stairwell.
Nova stooped and grabbed the gun, noting that the safety was still on. Smothering a sigh, she didn’t bother to take it off as she aimed the gun at Narcissa’s forehead.
Narcissa was in too much pain to notice. Fat tears were sliding down her cheeks as she pressed a hand over the sting on her shoulder.
Nova glanced at Honey. “Can you make the pain stop?”
Honey lifted an eyebrow. “Why should I? She tried to kill you.”
“Not very well.”
Honey grunted. “One does not have to be competent to be an enemy.”
“Honey.”
She rolled her eyes. “The burning from the venom will pass in a minute or two, though she’ll be sore for a few days. Unless she’s allergic. Then she’s going to die.” Honey curled one finger and the wasp flew back to her. “Do we know her?”
“Sort of.” Nova looked down again and saw that Narcissa’s long red braid had spilled out from the collar of her shirt. “This is the Librarian’s granddaughter. She can travel through mirrors.”
“The Librarian?” said Honey. “You mean the weapons salesman?”
Narcissa snarled through her pain. “He had a name. And he was more than just an arms dealer. More than the villain everyone says he was!” Her nostrils flared. “He was a good man. A scholar. Someone who cared about his community. And you killed him! Just to save your own skin!”
Nova gulped. She didn’t know Narcissa well, but during their few, brief meetings, she’d always liked her. Narcissa had seemed so unassuming. So uninterested in anything related to villains or heroes. She usually had her nose buried in a book and had seemed content to keep it there.
There was none of that now. Narcissa was too thin, too pale, and far too hostile. Clearly, those tender feelings Nova had once had for her were not reciprocated.
“I didn’t kill him,” said Nova. “The Detonator did.”
“Yeah, for you.” Narcissa used her sleeve to rub the snot from her nose. “But you Anarchists always were selfish. You never care about anyone but yourselves.” She pushed herself to her knees, flinching when she put weight on her arm, and tilted her chin up. “It’s because of you that my grandfather is dead. The library is gone. You took everything I had!”
“The Detonator did all that!” Nova repeated, louder this time. “I was trying to stop her!”
“If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have targeted us in the first place. Pretending to be a Renegade.… Using my grandfather and his library as pawns in your game.… It should have been you! Not him—you!”
Clenching her jaw, Nova dropped the gun into Narcissa’s lap. The girl startled and began to back away, as if the weapon were a deadly snake. Then she caught herself and wrapped both of her trembling hands around the handle. She did not aim it at Nova again, though her expression still spoke of murder.
“Your grandfather,” said Nova, “was one of the most notorious black-market arms dealers in the city. The Renegades finally caught up to him, and Ingrid saw an opportunity to use their sting operation as a trap. None of that is my fault.”
Clutching the gun, Narcissa stumbled back to her feet. “The Renegades finally caught up to him? Yeah, because he sold you a gun, and you were careless enough to try to assassinate Captain Chromium with it.”
“Actually,” said Leroy, “he sold the gun to me.”
Narcissa spun toward him. “Then you should all be dead! But here you are, still playing games while more prodigies are suffering! Well, I made a promise that I would bring that helmet back to the Rejects, and that we would use it to restore balance to this world. The balance that’s been destroyed by desperate power-seekers like the Anarchists and the Renegades. And I’m not leaving here without it.” She planted her feet, and though she’d gone pale, whether from the beesting or her own fears, she stood straight as she faced Nova.
Dismayed, Nova threw her hands into the air. “Who are the Rejects?”
Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “Rejected by society for being prodigies. Rejected by the Renegades for not fitting their perfect heroic standards. But together—we are more than just outcasts. We are powerful, and